Please Understand

Chapter 11: Love Letters and Suicide Notes

After practice, I ran back to the high school parking lot as fast as I could. I didn't want to shower with all of the guys because I didn't want to be around Luke. All of practice I avoided him. How could he? How could he hookup with Amelia? How could the two people closest to me keep this awful secret? Would she really want to be with him? If they liked each other, then why didn't they tell me? Or was it an accident? Were they drunk? I could maybe handle it better if their hookup meant nothing.

My lungs were screaming from all of my panicked breathing today, but I kept pushing myself towards the parking lot. Cars sped passed me and I wondered how crazy I looked as I frantically ran. Focusing on how sore I was at least kept my mind off of the missing girl. So far, reading the diary has done nothing to help me find her. All it did was traumatize me.

I stopped at my car, put my hands on my knees, and shook my hung head. There you go again, Mason, being selfish as usual. This isn't about you; it's about Amelia. I gritted my teeth, climbed into my car, and peeled out of the parking lot. My car struggled to go as fast as I wanted it to through our small town, but I kept my foot on the accelerator just to feel the wind through my hair. Anything! Anything to keep my mind off of her!

"Oh, poor Mason," she would whisper from the passenger seat with a smirk. "You don't want to think about me?" She played with the ends of her long, dark hair, twisting and untwisting her locks around her fingers.

She's not real. She's not here. She's gone.

She would giggle in her musical way that made me wish she had taken up singing. "Yeah, I know I'm not real, but do you know?" she asked with her voice getting a little stronger. "So why are you upset this time?"

Okay, answering myself is completely out of the question.

"Is this really because of Luke and I? Mason-"

I slammed on my brakes, making her vanish into the thin air she appeared from. Then, I threw my car into park, and barreled out. I needed to get away from her. I needed to find her, so I ran to the backyard, and scurried up the ladder to my tree house. One of her favorite hiding spots. When was the last time I had even been up here? Probably during the summer with Amelia when she dragged me up there to talk to her.

The hatch slammed behind me and my breath caught in my throat. My chest rose and fell noticeably fast as I curled myself in the corner with tears gathering in my eyes. The tree house felt like it was spinning too quickly for me to gain my composure, so I let myself break. I allowed my sobs to turn into shrill shrieks, but at least Amelia wasn't next door, so she woouldn't check on me. No one would hear my childish tantrum.

Blood...

Creator of lust...

Luke...

Amelia...

My throat closed and I gasped for air with my face buried in my knees. With my nails digging into my legs, I tried to catch a grip on the reality I was residing in, but my mind refused. Even as I caused myself pain, my heart broke, and my mind pleaded to drift away. All it could do was replay Amelia's words, her story of abuse. Then, my imagination ran wild as I dwelt on her past with Luke. Did I really screw up so badly that she would have sex with my best friend? Was I too stupid to see I could have had Amelia, but I let her run to someone else?

Through my tears, I dragged the wooden chest with my whole childhood inside towards me. Sobs hiccuped out of me as I picked up comic books, Pokemon cards, GI Joes, and Amelia's Barbies. She always brought her toys up here, and she would force me to play with her, but instead of being Ken, I was always one of my GI Joes. I picked up the last of her dolls, and tears streamed down my face as I looked at her brunette hair. Amelia, why did you have to leave reminders everywhere?

I threw the doll in the pile with the rest, and then I saw a notebook in the bottom of the toy box. Quickly, I swiped away the rest of my tears, and grabbed it. My eyes felt swollen and dry from all of the crying, but I leaned my head against the wall and opened the newest addition to Amelia's mystery. As I flipped through, I found that it wasn't nearly as important as the diary. There were usernames and passwords for her accounts, doodles, random poems, reminders, and lists of her favorite songs. I got out my phone and logged into her Spotify account, went through her playlists, and saw they matched some of her lists in the notebook. I thought about logging into some of her other accounts, but I knew they had been inactive since she went missing, plus I shouldn't go through her personal stuff.

But there I was, doing it anyways.

At least this notebook wasn't a story like her diary, it was random, and probably something she completely forgot about. I sighed as I tried to find something worth reading because I wasn't in the mood to decipher her poetry even though I didn't even know she wrote poems. All these years, she told me she hated poetry, but I guess she changed her mind. On the very last page, I froze when I saw the whole page was full of her beautiful handwriting, but her tears smudged a few of the words.

Someday, this life won't matter anymore. Someday, I will be free from the curse of the Jackson name. Someday, I won't have to pretend to be okay. Someday, I will actually be okay. I will be happy. I will be free from all my troubles.

If you asked the Old Amelia where she wanted to be in five years, then she might have told you that she wanted to be married. She thought she had a chance to marry the boy next door, her best friend, but now she knows that was never a possibility. Mason Maxwell is never going to fall in love with Amelia Jackson. So the story must go on. I need to go on.

Maybe I should've told him. With every passing year, I thought maybe he would notice me. I thought he knew by the way I looked at him, by the way I spoke to him, or maybe by the way I clung to his every word. Everything I did pointed towards my feelings for him, and I always felt like the loser in our story. The girl he came to with his problems, but he didn't love her the way she loved him. The girl next door that he always knew he could have, so the pursuit was no longer entertaining. Why go for a girl you can have whenever you want, especially when you can go for a blonde volleyball player who may or may not give you what you want?

I should've told him how I felt after Homecoming our Freshman year. I should've leaned towards him in the car when I thanked him for a fun night. I should've kissed him like I wanted to, like I planned to. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe I would be going to Homecoming with him for our Senior year.

No, he'll be going with Carlie Shenk, and they'll be Homecoming King and Queen.

I can't be here to witness that; I refuse to be.

How do you watch the boy you love fall in love with someone else?

I can't say I blame him. Carlie's prettier, she's more athletic, she's more popular, and she's harder to get. They could be a power couple. Maybe even high school sweethearts. Their babies would be beautiful with blonde hair and green eyes.

I always will want the best for my best friend, but unfortunately, Mason, I can't be here for you. I can't be happy when all I wanted was to be happy with you.

I should've written more.

Unfortunately, there are no love letters and suicide notes left for each of you, not that there's anyone in this town who legitimately cares about me. No one deserves the comfort of my last words.

I apologize to everyone, but this is all. There is no explanation, so stop looking.

Gasping for air, I slammed her notebook closed and wrapped my arms around my somersaulting stomach. Was I going to throw up again? Did Amelia need to write a suicide note? Did she want to write a love letter to me? I wish she would've left me something, anything besides these confusing cryptic messages that lead me to hating myself even more.